


Felt a Lover With Just His Hands

by michellejones



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Allydia - Freeform, Argent family feels, F/F, F/M, Major character death - Freeform, Scallison, crying while writing this, im fucking dying ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-19
Updated: 2014-03-19
Packaged: 2018-01-16 07:08:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1336555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/michellejones/pseuds/michellejones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The aftermath of Allison Argent's last, hushed breath.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Felt a Lover With Just His Hands

A scream. That was all it took for them to know it was final, that it was done, that she was gone. The last shattering cry of Lydia Martin as she collapsed onto a man she swore she would never get close to, but there, then, she was doing so willingly. She tugged onto his jacket, tugged at his skin, screaming, _gasping_ for her best friend, for her lifeline. She felt herself shake as her fingers fumbled for something to hold onto. She took Stiles’s wrists and wrung her paled fingers around them, seething between gritted teeth. Tears stung behind her eyes, but it wasn’t enough. It was never enough. Not her knives, not her bows, nor her arrows. Not her goddamn beautiful heart and those _dimples_ she’d never see again. Not even Lydia herself. Not even her gutting wail into whatever light was left without her.

“ _Allison!_ ”

No louder the scream, no faster Allison’s heart beat. No longer a functioning heart at all. No more fire raging through those fingertips, fluently plucking at string.

She lay limply in the arms of Scott McCall, blood at the end of her lips, her jaw slightly agape in want of another breath. It was a minute too late for her to gasp life again, for her heart to begin beating. For Scott to stop crying, and her father to stop pacing with his head in his hands ( _My leader. My protector. My daughter. My last_.)

Scott pressed the softest kiss he could manage onto her forehead with shaking lips and chattering teeth. His eyes tightly shut, he was seeing stars; wet lines traced solely into his cheeks, running past his lips and onto his now dry tongue. Salty sweet water lapped into his mouth, and he was reminded of her kisses that night she said she didn’t believe in fate, and he swore to fucking God that it did, it did exist.

_God, where the fuck are you? God, are you out there? God, why is there a sword in Allison Argent’s belly? Where is the life in the air she breathes, in her light lips against mine? Is this some kind of sick fucking joke? Because I swear she was here a minute ago, alive, saying she loved me. And I love her, too. I love her, too; I love her, too; I love her, too. She’s gone, but I love her._

_Why is she gone? Why did she leave so fast?_

_Where is the fight in her hands like there was when she was telling me she could protect herself? She could protect us all. The fight in her heart, when it beat steadily, then irrationally under pressure (blood pressure rising, cheeks flushing but fingers still and strong.)_

_Love of my life, my goddamn hand to hold._

He looked to Chris Argent. There weren’t just tears in his eyes. Scott saw clear from a mile away, there was nothing left.

So he picked her up. Scott kept her in his arms, tight, squeezing any sort of life back into her veins. _(That’s because it doesn’t hurt.)_

He flinched when he met her father’s eyes, his now black eyes that were darkly set on his.  _(I’m proud of you. I’m proud of us.)_ Argent brought his head down to hers. Scott felt the man's tears in her hair, wet with sorrow and misguided direction. Witnessed her arrow tight in his white-knuckled hand, now warm with his own blood as well as his daughter’s.

Argent took hold of Scott’s arm, his eyes still wavering upon Allison's pale blue fingertips.

“There’s always hope." Scott heard his voice crack when he said it, but he stood a little taller when Chris's eyes snapped up to him.

He no longer stared into the depths of void. He saw warmth, recognition; family. Scott swore through all those tears Argent cried, that he nodded, maybe smiled a little bit, too.

**Author's Note:**

> À la mémoire de Allison.


End file.
